


What is This?!

by ElloPoppet



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Blow Jobs, Dorks, Everyone Has Issues, Flirting, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Panic Attacks, Phone Sex, Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Texting, except for Sam, my teeth are rotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9536519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloPoppet/pseuds/ElloPoppet
Summary: Before the team heads out for a mission, Tony gifts Bucky a cell phone. This leads to awkward texting between Bucky and Clint. What even is this, and why is Bucky blushing? Is...are they flirting?!The future, man.





	1. An Unexpected Response

**Author's Note:**

> I've fallen for this ship fast and hard. This is my first time writing anything in this fandom, even for my own personal collection, so forgive any blatant screw ups regarding the universe.
> 
> This fic follows absolutely no MCU or comic timeline that I am aware of and is very much non-canon. Just wanted to write something cute and fluffy for once :) Using this as a way to blow off steam and have fun.
> 
> Tags and rating to be updated as the story progresses. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“A...cell phone?”

Bucky turned the device over, eyeing it cautiously. He tapped the screen with his flesh hand and whistled at the brightness.

“We thought it would be a good idea, another way for you to communicate if something happens with JARVIS when we’re out and...well.” Steve broke eye contact, letting his gaze drift haphazardly around Bucky’s apartment.

“You mean, while you mighty superheroes are out defending the world and I’m stuck in the tower with robots, being babysat by Stark’s surveillance?”

Steve grimaced. “Buck…”

Bucky turned his attention back to the phone, waving Steve off with his free hand to dismiss whatever apology was likely to come next. He didn’t respond to the exasperated sigh that followed, either.

“Ooh, how’s Robocop liking his new toy?”

Bucky and Steve turned towards the now-open door to Bucky’s floor, following Tony’s voice, both unsurprised to see him leaning on the doorframe. He looked smug. Bucky briefly wondered if Tony could look any other way, or if the Stark smugness was just ingrained in his DNA. Howard had certainly been smug, from what Bucky could remember.

“Stark tech. Lightweight, the charge will last you a lifetime, and it’s basically unbreakable unless you’re a dick of a god who decides to challenge that claim with your hammer of power, or whatever. Cap, you didn’t forget to show him the best part, did you? The part that makes it the Super-Bucky Special Toy?”

The longer he talked, the more Bucky wanted to leap out of the window. He was definitely holding on to some residual resentment towards Howard, and it was making itself quite known, as it typically did whenever Tony opened his mouth. Bucky figured that he should eventually just let it go, because holding on to negative feelings towards someone the Winter Soldier had killed felt...gross.

“Oh! Right. Yeah, Buck, you should be able to work the screen with both hands. It took some modifying, but Tony spent a few days and nights working it out for you.” Steve was gazing at Tony fondly, like he was a pile of newborn kittens and not an absolute cockass. Bucky held back the urge to pretend to vomit on Steve’s shoes and instead poked at the screen as gently as possible with his metal finger.

“Huh. That’s actually pretty swell, Stark. Thank...you?”

Tony snorted. “I’ll try to work out if that was a question or an expression of gratitude when we’re in the air. You ready, Cap?” Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and disappeared from the doorway.

“Stevie, I just don’t...how. How do you put up with...that...and seem to actually like it?”

Steve’s cheeks, predictably, tinged with pink and he simply shrugged. He clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, squeezed, and made his way to the door.

“So, we’re heading out. Going to locate and stabilize a threat in Brazil, might take us a few days. You’ve got food, if you need more JARVIS can always order in for you, you have your list of codes for the gym, pool, and common area, and…”

“Get outta here, Mom,” Bucky interrupted, motioning toward the door. “I won’t burn the place down or heaven forbid, step foot outside. Go. I know the drill.” He tried to make his face menacing when Steve just stood there, staring like a concerned elder. 

“You’ll use the phone?”

“I’ll use the phone.”

“Alright, Buck. Be good. Stay safe. And...I’m sorry, pal.”

*

Even though Bucky knew that it was at the very least improbable, if not impossible, he was still certain that he would die of boredom by dusk. Without the Avengers loitering around, training or eating Stark out of tower and home, the silence and absolute stillness of the night had weighed Bucky down. 

Bucky didn’t like feeling weighed down, like he couldn’t move or breathe. Too many memories cropped up when he felt this way. Not good ones, either.

He managed to hold out until 3:30 a.m. before picking up the phone that was sitting on his bedside table. Flipping through his contact list to find Steve’s number, he couldn’t help but smile, a bit of the weight lifting from his chest, letting a small bubble of warmth rise up into his throat. 

“Jerks. All of them, jerks,” he whispered to himself, flipping through the short list of contact names. They must have programmed themselves in, he figured. If Tony had done it, the names would be derogatory or malicious; they were neither. Between Natasha’s label of Natalia Romanova, Thor’s Son of Odin, and even Bruce’s The Other-Other Guy, Bucky appreciated the welcoming gesture down to his bones. Why they had all taken a chance on him living in the tower, he would never know, but lately he was finding himself more and more grateful that they had. 

Maybe one day, he would even believe them when they told him that he belonged there.

Letting out a huff as he scrolled past “Stark (Not Howard),” Bucky was even more amused to find that Steve had taken the boring high road. He selected “Steven Rogers” from the list and, after a minute or two of fumbling, sent his first text message out into the ether.

B: _Tell me a story, Stevie._

Bucky was pretty sure that if the team wasn’t asleep, chances were high that they were in the middle of some huge battle with mutants or tribbles or something of the like. Not expecting a response, Bucky placed the phone back on the nightstand and rolled over.

A few minutes later, he nearly jumped into a defensive stance in the middle of his bed when a loud buzzing erupted to the left of his head. Skin prickling and eyes wild, Bucky shot up, scanning the room. He let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his face when he realized that it was Stark’s damn phone, lighting up and nearly vibrating itself off of the stand. Feeling like an idiot, he reached over and flicked the screen on to make it stop.

“Not a word of this to anybody, JARVIS.”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The future, man.

After his eyes adjusted to the assaulting brightness of the screen against the darkness of his bedroom, he turned his focus back to the text message notification flashing in the corner.

C: _Sorry to disappoint, Barnes, but Stevie is asleep. For once. In his life._

Confused, Bucky looked to the top of the screen, at the contact name.

Can’t Hear You

Bucky snorted. If anybody could appreciate a self-deprecating joke about being disabled, it was him. It was an aspect of personality that he shared with Clint, and it was either a flaw or strength, depending on who was in the room to hear it.

B: _Snooping through Captain America’s Phone, Barton? I think that’s unconstitutional._

The reply was almost immediate.

C: _Still wearing my hearing aids. His phone went off, everybody is here but you. Process of elimination, my friend._

B: _Is everyone asleep? Isn’t it almost 7 in the morning where you are?_

C: _Pretty close to it. Just got back to base about an hour ago. We’re beat. Literally, figuratively, you know._

B: _Poor Avengers. Tired after saving the world._

Bucky hesitated before quickly typing a follow-up message.

B: _Nobody hurt, right?_

C: _Bruce is still healing, rough transformation. Scrapes, bruises, typical Wednesday. You alright?_

Bucky frowned.

B: _Of course I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be?_

C: _Almost 4 am back home, Barnes. Should be sleeping._

B: _Pot, meet kettle._

Clint didn’t reply for a long few minutes. Bucky felt his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. Finally. He was nodding off when the phone buzzed in his metal hand, causing vibrations to travel up his arm, unpleasantly tickling the prosthetic where it attached at his shoulder. He jolted awake.

C: _What were you texting Steve for, anyways?_

Bucky smiled.

B: _Jealous?_

C: _You wish, Sergeant._

Bucky bit his bottom lip, debating.

B: _I asked him to tell me a story. He used to do that sometimes, back then. Helped me sleep._

Another long minute ticked by. Bucky started to feel vulnerable. It didn’t suit him.

C: _Tell you what, soldier. Silence your phone, go get your beauty rest, and they’ll be a story waiting for you when you wake up. How’s that sound?_

The warmth in Bucky’s chest bloomed into something even warmer, brighter.

B: _You got a deal, Barton._

C: _Good. Now shut up and go to sleep._

B: _Bossy. Fine. Night._

C: _Night, Barnes._


	2. Let Me Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Thank you for the awesome response to the first chapter. I got excited and wrote the next one already :-D
> 
> I don't plan on this being super long, but I'm hoping to update at least twice a week until it's complete, aiming for Tuesdays and Thursdays, but who knows.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :-)

C: _Once upon a time there was a shaggy dog. His name was Barky. One day, Barky fell through some ice and got stuck. He lost one of his legs, but not to worry. A nice vet found him and replaced his missing leg with a nice shiny metal one. At first, Barky didn’t like his leg, but then one day an awesome, majestic hawk named Birdman pointed out that his new leg made him stronger and more capable than ever. And that just because the ice took his first leg didn’t mean that the ice had beaten him. Barky thought that Birdman was awesome and cool and totally right so everybody became friends and lived happily ever after. The end._

Bucky read the text from Clint nine times, until his sides ached from laughing and tears were streaming down his cheeks. It was only a few hours after he had gone to sleep, 7 a.m. local time, but he chanced that Clint was probably awake anyways. 

B: _That is the worst piece of shit story I’ve ever heard, Barton. Were you high?_

Bucky hoped that his sarcasm and amusement would be inferred. 

Clint’s response came quickly.

C: _Ungrateful. That took me at least a minute and a half to type out. I mean, I know that the dog in the story wasn’t abducted by an evil organization and made to commit doggie assassinations, but c’mon. I wanted to give you a happy story, not a shit one._

C: _Not to say your life story is shit._

C: _Shit._

C: _You know what I mean, right?_

C: _Your life story is pretty amazing._

C: _I’m going to throw my phone off of the quinjet now._

Bucky only became aware that he was smiling broadly when his cheeks began to hurt. He really, really wanted to fuck with Barton, and probably would have if they had been face-to-face. Instead, he opted to be nice.

B: _Calm down before you hurt yourself. Thank you for the story. It’s the first text I’ve ever saved._

A beat.

C: _You’re welcome, asshole._

*

Bucky was going stir crazy. 

He could only run laps around the gym and beat on a punching bag alone for so long before he started to feel tense, tired, and cranky. The team had been gone for less than 24 hours, and as far as he knew they were still trying to achieve their main objective. Steve had texted him in the early afternoon, apologizing for missing Bucky when he had requested a story. When Bucky had informed him that Clint had taken over as his BFF for the night, he would have given anything to see the perplexed look on Steve’s face that accompanied his response of “Oh.”

Bucky wasn’t known around the tower as being very social. He had gotten used to sticking around Steve day in and day out, until he had gotten sick of watching Steve pine after Stark like a lost puppy. After that, Bucky had chosen to drift around aimlessly, training with whomever was willing to spar, or assisting whoever had dinner duty, and sometimes handing things to Bruce in the lab when he was in need of a quieter atmosphere. 

There had been one incident a few weeks before the most current mission when Bucky had wound up in the shooting range, feeling bored and buzzing with a need to stretch his legs. When he had noticed Clint in the range with his bow, Bucky had nearly approached him to ask if he could try. Instead, something had stopped him in his tracks by the door, and he spent over an hour simply watching the arrows fly. There was something mesmerizing, soothing, in watching Clint load, draw, and shoot. Load, draw, shoot. Load draw shoot. Loaddrawshoot.

After that hour, Bucky had no longer felt trapped in his own skin, and he had slipped quietly from the room to go and take an uneventful, nightmare-free nap.

That had been the most one-on-one interaction he had had with Clint since, well, ever, and they hadn't even spoken. Bucky wasn’t surprised that Steve hadn’t known what to say about Clint being there, when his best friend had been needing him. 

Bucky made it to nightfall before texting Clint again.

B: _You guys done avenging yet, or what?_

C: _Why, do you miss me?_

Bucky snorted.

B: _More like I only have access to about 4 rooms in this place and I require more stimulation than a goldfish, Barton._

C: _Aww, you’re so sweet, you miss me. Where do you want to go?_

Confused, Bucky thought for a moment before responding.

B: _I hear the Bahamas is nice this time of year. I could scare beachgoers with my shiny cyborg body._

C: _You should display that bod proud, bro. And I’m pretty sure Fury would have my ass if I helped you get to the Bahamas. Where in the tower, big dreamer?_

Bucky’s heart quickened in his chest, slightly. He didn’t know why.

B: _The roof would be nice. I can’t remember the last time I actually breathed that polluted New York air._

C: _If I give you my access code, you gotta promise not to bolt. I’m already on thin ice and releasing the Winter Soldier into New York wouldn’t look good in my file._

Bucky just stared.

He had been at the tower for nearly 3 months now, and not once had he been allowed outside access in any form. He tried not to complain to anybody but Steve, because he understood safety protocol and honestly, he wasn’t to the point where he would really trust himself in the world just yet. On the roof, maybe. Amongst civilians? His confidence wasn’t that high.

But at least Bucky knew this about himself. And he knew that he wouldn’t bolt. He had Clint offering him a chance to go outside, actually feel the air on his skin and see the sky above his head. 

He couldn’t say no.

B: _I will polish your arrows and knives for a month if you give me that access code._

C: _Unnecessary. You won’t bolt?_

B: _Soldier’s honor._

C: _Can’t argue with that. 487438._

*

Bucky texted Clint back sometime after 2 a.m., from the roof.

B: _I had to argue with JARVIS to not tattle but he caved. Being outside is kind of smelly and awesome. I fell asleep for a few hours and a pigeon pooped on my shoe._

A few minutes passed before he got a response. Bucky was already back in his apartment by then, getting ready to clamber into bed.

C: _Sounds relaxing. Here, not so relaxing. Wish I could be there with you instead._

Warmth. 

B: _Thanks, Barton._

C: _You got it, Barnes._


	3. Adorable

C: _What is THIS?!_

Bucky opened the attachment clipped to the text and promptly groaned.

B: _Why the hell are you looking up Bucky Bears? What possible reason could you have, other than to torture me? Don’t you think I’ve been tortured enough, Barton?_

C: _They came up in conversation. C’mon, they’re so cute! A little stuffed you! Maybe I can get Stark to make me one with a little metal arm._

With nobody around to see him, Bucky facepalmed before firing a text back with a huff. 

B: _Golly Clint, if you wanted to snuggle with me that bad, all you had to do was ask._

He pressed send and then stared at the screen in abject horror. Why? Why had he thought that to be an appropriate response? He wasn’t in the middle of bantering with Steve, who would have rolled his eyes in exasperation and turned a little red around the edges. Well, that’s how Steve used to react, anyways. With Stark on his arm now, Bucky’s harmless innuendos and quips had gone largely ignored.

C: _Is the Winter Soldier flirting with me? That would sure give me something to write home about._

Leave it to Clint to _not_ deflect from the awkwardness. Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. Was he flirting? WHY would he be flirting with Clint Barton, of all people? He had forgotten what flirting with anybody but Steve felt like; he hadn’t realized that he was still capable of things like flirting or coquetry. Capable of feeling attracted to somebody, of seeking comfort in the form of another. He hadn’t known if that was one thing that Hydra had wiped from him completely.

But he could find out, he supposed

Bucky screwed his eyes closed, trying to conjure up an image of Clint in his mind. He focused on the memory of Clint in the shooting range, his body strong, muscular arms glinting with sweat, back curving down to the swell of-

Bucky’s eyes popped open. Okay. Maybe he could still experience attraction. 

He wished, suddenly, that he was having this flirtation(?) face-to-face with Clint instead of over text message so that he could see if the other man was smiling or grimacing, whether his eyes were twinkling or his brows were furrowed in confusion. 

Also, he couldn’t remember what color Clint’s eyes were. It seemed pertinent to this new, somewhat exciting situation. 

Fuck it. Bucky wasn't a shy, delicate flower. He was a deadly assassin, dammit.

B: _I don’t know about the Winter Soldier, but I’ll tell you if Bucky is coming on to you if you send me a picture._

His heart hammered when he sent the message. He certainly wasn’t feeling bored anymore. As the minutes ticked by, it beat faster, faster, becoming uncomfortable. Even though it was midday, he walked from his kitchen to his bed, finding comfort in burritoing himself with his blankets. When his phone buzzed with an incoming text, he snuggled down harder before opening the message.

C: _Gotta say, that took me off guard, and it’s hard to do that. Congratulations. What kind of picture did you have in mind?_

Bucky groaned internally. He hated texting and all of the misinterpretations that came along with it.

B: _A picture of your face, idiot._

C: _Charming. Hold on. I don’t keep backup selfies on my phone, as I’m a grown ass man._

Bucky smiled to himself as he waited. He liked this feeling. It was...nice. Even if he hadn’t seen this coming from a million miles away.

A+ assassin, he was. 

A loading bar popped up on his phone screen, and he felt his spine prickle with anticipation. He screwed his eyes shut. The feeling reminded him of the moment right before he would ask a dame to dance, way back when. The tingling came along with dozens of memories, some familiar and some new. Bucky breathed through them. He shook his head and opened his eyes; he had things to do. Namely, to look at the image that his phone had finished downloading. 

He knew what Clint looked like. How could he not? They lived in the same building, shared the same acquaintances (friends?) and made inappropriate jokes at times. Bucky wasn’t huge on eye contact, but he paid enough attention to those around him to know what they fucking looked like.

Or so he had thought.

The picture of Clint was head-on, his face front and center, cutting off right at the collar of his uniform. Bucky traced his eyes over Clint’s jawline, cheekbones, mouth, and up to his hair, which was gleaming in the sunlight, somehow shiny and dusty at the same time. Speaking of dust, there were patches of soot and dirt on his forehead and cheek; recent battle? 

Bucky settled on Clint’s eyes (that had been the point, right?) and chastised himself. How could he have forgotten that shade of blue? That calming, refreshing, cooling shade of blue flecked with other subtle colors, like sea glass. 

He shook his head. Where did that come from? Where was any of this coming from?

C: _Well? Is Bucky flirting with me, or what? I didn’t send the photo for nothing, Barnes. Where’s my intel?_

Bucky hesitated, unsure.

B: _I had ulterior motives for asking for the picture. I could have answered your question without it._

C: _Oh really? Are these ulterior motives going to make me blush like a schoolgirl?_

B: _I forgot the color of your eyes. It seemed important._

…

C: _oh_

*

They were taking for-fucking-ever. 

Usually when the team was gone on assignment, they would be back in a matter of two or three days, tops. This time around, they had already been gone for over 3 full days, with no indication of when they would be returning to the tower. Late on Friday night, Bucky was in a pair of pajamas, on his couch, watching a cooking show on a television that was inappropriately huge.

He wanted to go dancing. For the first time in over 70 years, he wanted to go dancing. He couldn’t, but the thought itself excited him. Made him feel normal. Ish. Normalish.

B: _I want to go dancing._

Bucky didn’t really expect a response immediately. He got one, anyways. 

S: _That’s great, Buck! Still can’t dance._

Bucky chuckled. Super soldier or not, Steve would always be hopeless.

B: _You’re a constant disappointment, Stevie._

His phone buzzed a few minutes later.

C: _Captain America just told me that I have to take the Winter Soldier dancing. What is my life._

Bucky full on grinned. He and Clint had taken to texting more frequently, out of boredom or insomnia, over the last day. It had certainly helped Bucky avoid death by boredom, and he would be lying if he said that it didn’t feel good to feel as though he had made another friend. He was up to two whole friends now in this century. It was a victory.

B: _Your life is you, tiny bird-man, being bossed around by big strong soldiers. What do you plan on doing about it, pal?_

C: _Aw, Barnes, no. You’re mean. I’m not tiny. I'm taller than you!_

Adorable. Clint was adorable. Bucky actually typed it out: _You’re adorable._

He quickly deleted it and swallowed. What. Was. He. Doing.

Idiot. He was being an idiot. 

B: _Sure, you’re not tiny or short. Small, then. Puny. Quaint._

C: _Maybe I’m not all huge and burly like you and Captain Pectorals over here, but I’m a big guy. Where it counts ;)_

Bucky choked on air. It wasn’t so much the innuendo (Clint seemed to speak in fluent innuendo), but the...wink face? The texty winky face? What was that supposed to mean?

The future, man.

B: _Oh yeah? And where does it count?_

Clint must have been expecting the question because his response was immediate.

C: _My feet, of course. I have two huge left feet. Which you’ll get to see first hand when I take you dancing._

Bucky felt his face grow warm. He used to be good at this stuff, he knew. But he had never done it when he was worlds away from the gal or guy he was trying to woo. So instead of rising to the perceived challenge, he deflected.

B: _Smooth, Barton._

C: _Yeah. I thought so too._


	4. Nesting

It was 4 a.m. on Saturday, and Bucky was having a panic attack. At least, that’s what JARVIS was all-too-calmly repeating into their ears. The announcement nearly made Cap stumble into enemy fire. He blocked with his shield and ducked down behind a smoking truck.

“Is he hurt, JARVIS?”

“Sergeant Barnes appears to be physically uninjured, however his breathing patterns and heart rate are cause for alarm.”

Steve rubbed his face with a gloved hand. “This is such bad timing, I can’t...SHIT!” He scrambled backwards as the truck exploded, as though on cue. 

“Language, Steven!” Tony barked from somewhere in the sky. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Guys, I’m not covered down here. Can anybody make it to the jet to walk JARVIS through helping Bucky, to see if he needs medical attention or just a talking to?”

“Yeah, Cap, I’ve got it. Get high coverage for your east.”

Steve checked his perimeter, nodded. “Widow, cover,” he barked, before quietly adding “and thank you, Hawkeye.”

“Not a problem.”

*

“JARVIS, I need you to patch me through to wherever Barnes is, please.”

Clint nervously rubbed his hands together, stance wide, weight shifting from foot to foot. Why exactly had he volunteered for this again? It had seemed like a no-brainer when Steve had asked the team for help, because apparently Clint had forgotten that he, a wreck of a human being, may not be qualified to help Barnes, an equally-probably-way-more wrecked human being. He just knew that the other man needed help, and the thought of Barnes being so far away and alone had made Clint’s chest constrict.

The screen on the jet’s console lit up with an image from the tower. Clint was relieved to see that Barnes was at least in his own apartment, a little less relieved to see that he was laying sideways on his bedroom floor, curled up into a ball and shaking. Clint watched him for a moment, an ache burning brightly somewhere behind his breastplate. JARVIS’ voice snapped him out of it.

“You are connected via audio feed, Agent Barton.”

Clint took a breath. 

“Barnes, hey. Can you hear me?”

Clint saw him still at the sound, before continuing to shake violently.

“It’s me, it’s Barton, you know, your quaint, puny text friend? What’s going on, bud? You’re not looking so hot.”

He winced internally. Insult the guy in the middle of a panic attack. Great.

“C...Clint?” Barnes remained curled up on the floor, but by the looks of it he had gone still and quiet. That was a start.

Bucky’s voice was so, so small. Clint deflated, the sound of his first name coming from the other man pulling at the already violent ache.

“Yeah, Bucky. It’s me. Will you do me a favor, if I have JARVIS turn on your lights?”

Bucky nodded, ever so slightly.

“Okay. JARVIS, lights to 70%, please.” Clint watched the screen brighten, and much to his joy, he also watched Bucky pull himself into a sitting position, knees still drawn tightly to his chest. Clint was grateful to be able to look at him through normal lighting instead of through the eerie tones of the night vision cameras. 

“Thanks. Okay, Buck, I want you to look around and tell me everything you can see that’s green, okay? Can you do that?” Instead of questioning the odd request, Bucky nodded again and unsteadily unwrapped himself to be able to turn his head to look around the room.

“Um, there’s...there’s a book on the shelf with a green spine...one of my shirts, hanging in the closet...uh…”

Clint closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He hadn’t put much stock in his own therapy sessions following the battle in New York, but he had remembered a few of the more effective grounding exercises that had helped him come down from his own nightly panic attacks at the time.

“...and I guess the bedside lamp is green-ish? Tinted? I don’t know. That’s...that’s it, I think.”

Clint felt himself smile. “Good, that’s good, man. How’s your breathing?”

He watched Bucky pull in a few deep, slow breaths before answering.

“Okay. Better. Not the best, but you know.”

“Yeah, I know. How’s your heart?”

Bucky huffed. “Hurts.”

Clint sighed. “Yeah, I know that, too. But hey, look at you. Not hyperventilating, talkin’ to me, and you’ve looked around the room enough for shit that’s green that you know there aren’t any threats in there with you, yeah?”

He watched a small, surprised smile ghost over Bucky’s face. The ache in Clint’s chest shifted into something that was less painful, more sweet. Aw, feelings.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank..thank you, for that. I just...nightmares, memories, you know? And nobody was here, nobody in this giant ass building, makes it feel so goddamn empty...but I think just hearing a familiar voice snapped me out of it. Hearing your voice, it helped. Just...thanks.”

Clint was glad that Bucky couldn’t see him as well, because that statement probably hadn’t been intended to make him blush. He was a disaster.

They were a good match, Clint supposed.

“That’s good. Glad to be of service.” Clint hesitated before adding the next bit. “Hey, Buck, I know something that might help with the whole ‘feeling tiny and alone in this giant building’ sensation, but you gotta get up and call me on your cell phone, okay?”

Bucky complied.

*

“What the hell?”

Clint could barely hear Bucky’s confused question, and he stifled a laugh. It couldn’t be easy, trying to hold a phone to his ear while crawling through the air vents. Clint figured that Bucky had finally come across his super-sweet snuggle spot, having followed Clint’s directions through the twists and turns of the vent system in the tower. Luckily, Clint knew that layout like the back of his hand.

“There’s just so much purple, man, seriously. You’re a walking cliche.” 

Clint didn’t even try to bite back the laughter that bubbled up from his throat. “Yeah, yeah, shut it. I happen to know that there’s a super comfy PURPLE blanket and a super comfy PURPLE pillow right there, so get yourself cozy.”

Shuffling, a bang, a curse, more shuffling, before the line went quiet. Clint’s heart raced as he thought about Bucky curled up and probably exhausted in his own hiding spot. Finding comfort in the small piece of the tower where Clint had discovered solace countless times before.

He liked the feeling. Liked the thought of sharing this, with Bucky.

Clint bit his lip. He had to knock those mushy feelings away, for both of their benefits. They were onto something good, here. Clint really wouldn’t mind having someone other than Nat and Katie-Kate to bitch too every now and then. 

Clint shook his head, cleared his throat. “You cozy yet, you purple-hating plebeian?”

Bucky’s laugh was small, content. Oh, hell. What Clint wouldn’t give to hear that noise in person. 

“I think...I think this smells like you, Barton. ‘s nice.”

Too much. Clint was gonna die.

“Oh, so back to formalities now, Barnes? Or is it Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes?”

A sleepy sigh, before “I’m tired, asshole. Thanks for...you know. Text me later?”

Clint’s throat stung. “You bet, Buck.”

“Oh, m’kay. Night, Clint.”

The line went dead, and Clint stared at his cell phone in his hand for a long while. So much for knocking the feelings away.

Fucked. He was so very fucked.


	5. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter this week it looks like; my apologies! Prepping for work audits takes a ton of time. It's a longer one, though, so hopefully that makes up for it. 
> 
> Thank you guys for all of the wonderful comments and kudos, by the way! This fandom is welcoming and amazing and I love you all.
> 
> Notice, the rating has jumped. Also be warned that I'm not the best at smut, so...*hides*

When Bucky woke up, everything was soft and warm. 

He remembered where he was before opening his eyes to the dark, tight space of the air vents. And without the guiding light of his cell phone, the vents really were dark. And quiet, but not vast and empty, lacking the gutted feeling of the empty tower.

Bucky thought that he could stay in the vent forever and be quite content, thank you. 

He ran his flesh hand over the soft, velvet blanket covering his body, enjoying the sensation beneath his fingertips and the warm comfort that the touch provided. He knew that he had been missing touch in his life, for decades and decades. Aside from Steve’s occasional hand and shoulder grabs, and other random pats from the more brazen and daring Avengers, Bucky hadn’t been touched in any meaningful way since the 40’s. 

He wondered what it would feel like if Clint touched him. 

The spark that shot through his body at the thought hit him with such force that for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. 

Clint had to have touched him before, right? Passing the milk at the breakfast table, brushing shoulders during one of the few movie nights Bucky had decided to attend, clapping him on the back, something...right? 

Bucky screwed his eyes closed, trying like hell to conjure up a memory of being close enough to Clint to touch. He couldn’t recall a single instance. So, he started creating false memories instead, of being touched by Clint.

_I think they’re called fantasies, asshole._

Clint, setting his hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. Clint, tousling his hair. Clint, rubbing his thumb over the tender skin on his wrist.

They were innocent enough, the touches from Clint in Bucky’s mind. Nothing explicit, nothing inappropriate, or scandalous. Until Bucky imagined what it would be like if Clint were to show him how to shoot his bow. 

Suddenly extremely overheated, Bucky decided that it would be a good time to get out of the vents. He tried really, really hard to ignore the feeling of sadness as he turned around and started to shimmy back the way that he (hoped) he had come the night before. 

If he turned back and snatched onto the vivid purple blanket to take with him, well, nobody had to know (except maybe JARVIS, who kept decidedly quiet). 

*

His skin was buzzing. 

He had emptied dozens of clips at the range, ran over 10 miles and swam 50 laps in the gym, and had just finished putting away an average person’s caloric intake for two days in one early lunch, and yet he couldn’t shake the restlessness that had settled into his bones. 

Bucky did his dishes and had just finished putting them away when his phone buzzed on the counter. He felt a ping of humiliation at how quickly he snatched it up.

C: _Hey sleeping beauty. How was spending the night in my super awesome sanctuary?_

B: _Nest. You mean your nest. It was good. And much appreciated._

C: _Feeling more human this morning?_

B: _As human as can be expected for a lab experiment with a robot limb, I guess, yeah._

C: _Way to be self-deprecating, ass. You’re with the good guys now. You can use that robot limb in kickass ways that you won’t even have to feel guilty for later._

Bucky smiled. He appreciated the sentiment, even if the message didn’t quite soak in. 

B: _You’ve never felt guilty about anything that you’ve done with your bow?_

There wasn’t a response. Not for a long while. Not until Bucky was getting ready to hop into the shower, hoping that the water would calm him.

C: _I feel guilty for plenty. But this isn’t about me, Barnes, so nice try._

Followed immediately by a second text.

C: _Maybe let me do something good with the bow. I could always teach you how to use it. Your aim, I bet you’d be pretty good. Not as good as yours truly, but still. Second best is no joke. Whaddya say? Bro date?_

Bucky dropped his phone. 

Luckily, it didn’t shatter, which was a pleasant surprise (he had personally witnessed Thor break at least a dozen phones simply by holding them. Damn, Stark tech was seemingly impressive. Bucky was a little pissed). He picked it up and put it down on the bathroom sink, letting go of it quickly as though it were on fire. 

Date. Bro date. Bro..date? What the hell even was that? He should ask Steve. But...he couldn’t ask Steve. Could he? Would Barton be mad if Steve knew about his offer for this...whatever?

He wasn’t dealing with this right now. A hot shower was running, he was naked and jittery, and a response could wait until he was finished acting like a teenage girl. 

Much to his dismay, Bucky’s jitters weren’t soothed by the water as he had hoped. The shower cleaned the sweat from his skin just fine, but couldn’t steer his mind away from thinking about things that he should not be thinking about. Prime example, the thought that had followed him from the vents and had actually been encouraged by Barton himself. Clint, teaching him how to shoot his bow.

_He would stand close, Bucky knew he would. Clint would want to make sure that his precious bow was safe in the hands of another. Bucky could feign ignorance, though he had used a bow plenty, he could fumble and slip his grip. Clint would step up behind him then, would put his hand over Bucky’s on the bow to steady his aim. His arms, toned and bronzed from the recent mission, would line up perfectly with Bucky’s own._

At this point, back in real life, Bucky had stopped washing his hair and had leaned his forehead against the arm he had propped against the shower wall. His breathing had become heavy, and he was starkly aware of the heat and weight pooling in his groin. 

_What would it feel like to have Clint’s chest pressed flush with his back, Clint’s hips aligned behind Bucky’s own? Clint would be warm. And strong, his muscles firm beneath his shirt, his breath hot on the back of Bucky’s neck as he gave directions, low and quiet._

Bucky groaned as he thrust his hips without thinking into the warm, moist steam of the shower. He felt, rather than saw, his cock growing heavy with his fantasy, the tension of thick arousal thrumming beneath his skin. He was starting to remember what this felt like, why this was good.

_What would Clint smell like? Bucky imagined a heady scent of earth, and smoke, and burnt coffee. Imagined it becoming stronger the harder Clint’s heart beat against Bucky’s back, as he leaned forward and licked the outer shell of Bucky’s ear…_

Bucky let out a sharp breath as he wrapped his flesh hand around the base of his dick, which had grown painfully hard and had begun to leak. He was tentative at first as he started to stroke, letting the muscle memory and common sense help him figure out what it was that he liked. 

_Oh, good. This is really, really good._

Bucky found a rhythm that suited his needs and shut his eyes as tightly as possible, fucking into his fist quickly, imagining that it wasn’t his hand, maybe Clint’s, or Clint’s mouth, or...fuck…

A moment before Bucky knew he was going to climax, his phone rang.

*

“Yeah? Uh..H...hello?”

Clint felt his eyebrows shoot up. Barnes sounded out of breath, more winded than he had ever heard him, even after his panic attack the night before.

“Yeah, hey. You alright, man? You sound a bit...strained.”

There was a small choking noise on the other end of the line before Bucky cleared his throat to answer.

“I, no. I was just finishing up a run.”

Clint smiled to himself. “A run, huh? In the shower? Sounds dangerous.” 

Bucky cursed loudly, and Clint heard the sound of the shower water shutting off. The other end remained silent, save the other man’s ragged breathing. 

“Sounds like you were having a vigorous shower there. Panic attack? Or taking part in a much more pleasurable activity?” Clint ensured that he sounded like he was teasing. Which he totally was. He wasn't actually curious about whether or not Bucky had been getting himself off in the shower, no sir.

“I don’t see how that’s your business, Barton.” Bucky practically growled into his ear. 

Clint considered his interest officially peaked. He glanced around the pit, noted that nobody was paying him any mind, and made his way to the back bathroom of the quinjet as he spoke.

“What fun is that answer, eh Buck? I thought we were becoming friends.” Client locked the door behind him and turned the sink on full blast to drown out any noise. 

Bucky was quiet for a moment before responding. “No panic attacks since last night. That satisfy you?” 

Clint felt his face grow warm at Bucky’s phrasing. “No, not quite. That’s great and all, but you know what would be really satisfying? If you pushed the little video button at the top of your screen.”

Bucky snorted. “I’m not a total ignoramus. You trying to trick me into video calling you, Barton?”

“No tricking about it. Just trying to get a better idea of what I'm working with.”

“Tough. I’m not...decent.”

Clint licked his lips at the image that flashed through his mind. “Even better. You gonna make me beg for you?” Clint heard his own voice quiver. 

_Nice confidence, Barton. Real Casanova you are._

Much to his surprise, his phone beeped once into his ear, prompting Clint to look at his screen. Video call request. 

Suddenly, he didn’t feel so cocky. What if he was reading this all wrong? Thinking himself a masochistic idiot, Clint accepted the video call and realized, quickly, that he had indeed read this all _right._

Clint bit back a groan at the sight of Bucky’s face. He was shirtless, Clint could tell, and it looked as though he had made it to his bed. His long hair was wet, droplets of water making small rivers on his bare skin and the metal of his arm. Bucky’s cheeks were flushed a deep red, and his eyes, _christ_ , his pupils were so blown that his eyes were nearly black.

“Jesus _fuck_ , Bucky, warn a guy if you’re going to look like pure, grade-A sex, would ya?” 

Bucky flushed an even deeper red, his lips turning up at the corners. “Tell me how you really feel, Barton.”

Clint let out a huff of laughter before taking the dive. “I feel like you should finish what you started in the shower, Buck.” 

Clint watched as Bucky worried his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment, face screwed up as though in debate. Suddenly, so quick it made Clint’s heart pound in his chest, the look of contemplation on Bucky’s face turned into a look of cocky mischief. 

Fuck, this beautiful fucker. Clint hated everything in the world at that moment. Except for maybe Bucky.

“I will if you join me, Barton.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Clint whispered, no thought required. Clint kept watching Bucky on the small phone screen as he used his free hand to hurriedly pop the button on his pants, undo the zipper, and pull his erection out of his boxers. When had he gotten so hard? The moment Bucky had answered the phone all breathless, he imagined. 

Clint wasted no time, stroking himself from base to tip firmly. He kept the camera pointed at his upper torso and body, enough so that Bucky could see the motion of his arm. 

And Bucky could see. It was evident by the widening of his eyes and his shift in position as his own shoulder started to roll. Clint didn’t hold back his groan then.

“Ah, fuck...I gotta warn you, this isn’t gonna take me very long,” Bucky stuttered out, his eyes drifting closed before snapping back open, focusing on the screen. 

“Well, you did get a head start, pal. What were you thinking about in the shower that got you all riled up?”

“You.”

Clint nearly came right then at Bucky’s response, honest and raw. Clint knew without a doubt that he was telling the truth, and it sent a jolt of electricity up his spine.

“Jesus christ, Bucky...I’ve been thinking of this, the last few days, you’ve been flirting with me, driving me crazy…”

Clint watched as Bucky appeared to pick up the pace, the sound of Bucky fisting his cock now loud enough for Clint to hear. 

Bucky whimpered. “You and me both. Wish you were here, with this was you, touchin’ me…”

Clint moaned, unabashedly. “Me too, gorgeous. M’gonna make sure you’re not touch starved anymore, Buck. Gonna touch you, all the time, want to suck you, wanna feel you fuck me…” Clint was babbling, he knew, but Bucky’s voice and the sight of his face, open and wanting, was driving Clint to the edge, fast. 

Bucky made a keening sound at the statement. “I thought about that, in the shower, wondered if your throat would feel like velvet around me…” 

And then Bucky stopped. Moving, talking, the whole deal. The contemplative look was back on his face and Clint had just opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when he saw Bucky reach out of frame for something. Bucky paid attention to his lap for a moment before Clint saw him start pumping his arm once more. 

Bucky suddenly moaned loudly before letting out a breathless laugh. Clint had to stop jerking himself off, nearly climaxing at the sounds Bucky was making alone. 

“No, don’t stop, don’t...you wanna see something, sweetheart? I think you’ll like it.” Bucky's voice was low and rough, and incredible. 

The bottom dropped out of Clint’s stomach. Bucky was going to kill him. He was sure of it. Once again wrapping his hand around himself, Clint managed a nod. 

The camera on Bucky’s end tilted downward, and after a moment Clint gasped before closing his eyes, blocking out the sight of Bucky’s cock pushing in and out of his fist, which was covered with Clint’s purple velvet blanket that Bucky had no doubt slept with in the vent. 

“Fuck, too much Buck, m’gonna…” 

Clint went to point his own camera downward to show Bucky his finish. 

“Christ, no, wanna see your face, please...Clint, Clint…”

Clint snapped the phone back upwards just in time for Bucky to see him bite his lip hard enough to draw blood as he came, spilling himself over his hand and onto the floor. He kept eye contact the entire time, and had barely finished his own orgasm when he saw Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Clint, oh, fuck, fuuuuck…” Clint watched Bucky start to shake and gasp, and his already spent dick twitched at the sight of come spurting over Bucky’s chest.

It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. 

On the screen, Bucky followed himself with the phone as he flopped onto his back on the mattress. It was quiet for a moment, and Clint feared that awkwardness would settle in until Bucky made a motion towards his own mouth.

“You’re bleeding, asshole.”

Clint laughed, wiping his bottom lip with the back of his hand before grinning at Bucky like an idiot.

“So, uh, I have a serious question for you Bucky, after all that.”

Bucky’s face became still, and Clint watched him draw in a breath.

“Yeah?”

Clint held back a smirk. “Yeah. I need to hear it from you, I need you to be really, truly honest with me. How do you really feel...about the color purple, now?”

Clint thought Bucky’s laughter was the sexiest thing about him.


	6. Perplexity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm the worst.
> 
> I think back to when I posted my goal of updating twice a week and it makes me laugh/cry. I had completely forgotten the work constraints during audit time, so it's been...3 or 4 weeks since I've last updated? Yeah. I'm an asshole.
> 
> However, I didn't forget about this story! It's more than half finished, and I swear, it'll all be posted by the end of March. If it isn't, feel free to throw me off the quinjet and into the ocean.
> 
> As always, endless thank you's to anybody reading, leaving kudos, and leaving comments. The members of this fandom are amazingly kind and I love all of them eternally.

S: _One more thing to clear up, a debrief, and then we’ll be home. Shouldn’t be any later than nightfall tonight, Buck._

The text that woke him up the following morning caused a mixed reaction for Bucky. On one hand, he wouldn’t be alone in the tower any longer, the only people left in the world he cared about would be safe under one roof, and Clint would be there, with him, in the flesh.

On the other, less thrilled and more shitting-his-pants terrified, Clint would be there, with him, in the flesh. And Bucky had no idea what to do about that. The jack-off debacle the day previous had ended with breathless laughter and half-spoken agreements to text each other later. Then, Bucky had promptly fallen asleep until early evening. When he had texted Clint, he received a short, clipped response stating that the team was on active mission and that they would talk later.

So far, later hadn’t come, and it had left Bucky with enough alone time to have a minor (not so minor) freak out about the entire situation. 

What would he say when he saw Clint? Could he touch him, just reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, or would that break whatever code they had been establishing? Bucky thought a lot about what it would be like to walk right up to Clint, in front of everybody, and just lay one on him, tongue and hands, the whole “my lover is back from war” shebang. It was at that point when Bucky realized that referring to Clint as his lover, even in his mind, was inaccurate at best and would be wildly offensive to Clint at worst.

“Your vitals appear to be distressed, Sergeant Barnes. Is there need for concern?”

JARVIS’ voice brought him back to the moment, and he was still staring at Steve’s text. Bucky sighed.

“All clear, JARVIS. Thank you.”

“May I suggest, Sergeant Barnes, that you contact Mr. Barton? It appeared the other night during your panic attack that he had quite a calming effect on you.”

Bucky snorted. The computer was too smart for his own good. Maybe Stark deserved to be a little smug, now and again. As much as he hated to admit it, Bucky knew that JARVIS had the right idea.

He wasn’t a pansy. He wasn’t weak, and he wasn’t heading into a goddamn war. Even though it felt that way when he picked up the phone to text Clint.

B: _A little birdy told me that you jokers should be heading back tonight. Must feel good._

C: _A little birdy? You mean an all-American bald eagle?_

C: _It does._

C: _Feel good to be coming back to the tower._

Bucky hesitated. He realized in that moment just how badly he wanted Clint to say that it would feel good coming back to HIM. He’d never been such a sap before over a fella. 

May as well take a plunge.

B: _It’ll feel good having you here. With me._

Much to Bucky’s relief, Clint’s response was nearly immediate...and better than Bucky could have hoped for.

C: _Thank fuck, man. I’m glad one of us has the balls to outright flirt at this particular moment in time. I’ve been sweating bullets wondering if you were going to go into a gay panic since yesterday._

Bucky snorted.

B: _Bisexuality also existed in the 40’s. I’ve had plenty of time to panic and get over panicking._

C: _Good. Because I won’t have time for all that once I’m in the same room with you._

B: _Yeah? What should I expect?_

C: _Awkward stammering, hesitant almost-touching, the worst flirting of your life and likely pit-stains of nervousness._

B: _Charming._

C: _I’m the whole package, big guy. What should I expect from you?_

As Bucky pondered his response, his smile shrank down into something small and unsure. In reality, what should Clint expect? Would this feel as natural and as exciting when it was happening in person, or would some foreign, long forgotten piece of his Hydra re-writings crop back up and tell him that warm and welcome contact was wrong, wrong, wrong?

Bucky felt his mind frame shift from something fun and flirty into something serious and heavy. Honesty, he figured, might be best here, even if it did scare Clint away. 

B: _I don’t know, Clint. I haven’t been in a position to trust a lot of folks over the last few decades, ya know? And not a ton of good touching, or good feelings either, before the last few months. I might freak out. I might not. I don’t want to, though, if that counts for anything._

C: _Luckily for you, I’m an expert at being unsure what’s going to happen after the maniacs get out of your head. I catch your drift._

C: _If you don’t want to freak out, what do you want to do?_

Bucky’s heart sped up. He hadn’t before taken Clint as one who could have a very serious, very real conversation about feelings, or relationships, or anything really apart from shooting, terrible television shows, or food. Bucky obviously hadn’t given him enough credit. 

B: _I think I’d like to take you out for a night on the town. That’s what I want to do._

C: _Pizza, dancing, canoodling, the whole deal?_

Bucky snorted. _Canoodling?_ Client was an ageist bastard.

B: _Would that satisfy the parameters of your previously suggested bro date, Agent Barton?_

C: _Pushes the parameters a bit, especially with the canoodling, but yeah, that’ll do._

Bucky smiled wickedly. 

B: _Besides, screw canoodling. I think I’d rather destroy the parameters altogether and finally get my hands on that body I’ve been obsessing over for the last week._

There was silence for a bit, and Bucky’s cheeks warmed as he imagined Clint spluttering awkwardly. Who woulda ever thought that awkward and bumbling would be his type?

C: _You had me at ‘screw canoodling,’ Buck._

B: _Good. So, when you get off the jet, then what happens?_

B: _I don’t like surprises._

C: _10-4, Bucky. I imagine that you’d better be waiting for me as close as possible because I’m kind of dying to kiss you stat, immediately, ASAP._

Bucky’s grin nearly split his face in two. 

B: _I’ll be waiting, Clint._

C: _You’d better._

*

Bucky didn’t hear back from him after that. He knew that they had some post-mission wrap up to complete before debriefing, and that it would be a while. That didn’t stop him from using the roof access code to sit outside and wait for the jet as soon as dusk started to descend. 

His body was thrumming with nervous (and excited) energy by the time night fell. Rather than feeling scared, he felt giddy. It had been a long, long time since he’d felt giddy. That last night of dancing before shipping off to war, probably. He liked the feeling. Liked it a lot.

He thought his heart would pound out of his chest when JARVIS notified him to change position on the landing deck, as the jet was approaching. Not a moment later, he felt his hair start to whip frantically around his head as the wind from the jet became stronger. Ah, hell. He should have worn a hair tie.

He watched, grinning like a fool no doubt, as the jet landed and the doors opened. First out was Stevie, who shot Bucky a look of joy mixed with perplexity. Oh, right. Bucky wasn’t supposed to be on the roof. Oops. 

Bucky watched as the rest strolled out after him. A smug looking Tony, a haggard looking Bruce, a flawless Thor, and a stoic as ever Natasha. He felt himself rocking on his heels, knowing that Clint would be next. Process of elimination. 

Which is why Bucky felt a swift kick of confusion as he watched the jet door close before the craft started it’s ascent back into the sky. 

“Wait,” he whispered to himself under his breath.

“Wait!” This time he didn’t whisper. He aimed his exclamation at Natasha instead. She stopped in front of him, cocked her eyebrow.

“Natalia, where is he? Where’s Clint?”

He watched her mask slip, ever so slightly as she bent her head to the side, eyeing him with a look of newfound understanding. Bucky thought he even saw the ghosting of a pleased smile on her face, but it passed quickly, too quick to count.

“He’s not here, Barnes.”

Bucky felt his heart fall to his feet, taking his stomach with it. He knew Clint must be okay, or Steve wouldn’t have looked happy, and Natasha wouldn’t have almost-smiled. Which meant that Clint hadn’t come home by choice. Hadn’t come home _to him_ by choice.

The look on his face must have given him away, because Natasha’s face settled into something softer around the edges.

“Come on, James,” she said quietly, putting her hand on his shoulder to guide him back into the tower. He found that he didn’t mind the contact.

“We need to talk.”


	7. In No Way Less-Than

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a lot of very yell-ey and mad messages for last chapter's cliffhanger. I'm a little sorry, but also pretty stoked that you guys care! Hopefully this chapter brings you a little bit of happiness (and a lot of love for our Hawkguy, god bless him).
> 
> I'm planning on wrapping this up in the next two chapters, thank you for the kudos and the comments, and simply for reading this far :)

“Are you going to tell me what happened, or are you just going to sit there and stare at me?” The question didn’t come out as biting as Bucky would have liked. Instead, he sounded tired. Deflated.

Natasha was sitting across from the community kitchen table, stirring a cup of tea and fixating on Bucky’s face in a creepy, unblinking way that made his skin itch. Another full minute went by before she leaned back in her chair and started to talk.

“You know we had mission follow up prior to our debrief yesterday.” It wasn’t a question. Bucky didn’t respond. “To keep things simple, things didn’t go as planned.”

Bucky’s heart sped up. He had imagined that Clint must be safe because nobody was panicking or mourning, but Natasha’s voice and words both had an edge of something somber.

“Is he okay?”

Natasha nodded, once, curt. “Physically, yes. He’s uninjured. Emotionally?” 

She didn’t continue. Bucky needed her to spit it out. 

“Jesus Christ, Natalia, would you just tell me?!”

His reaction, for whatever reason, seemed to please her. 

“ We had to do some post-op cleanup before the city crew took over. We misplaced some tech during an encounter, needed to find it before we left. Fury sent in some additional agents to help us out, figured we could use the extra manpower. One of the guys was doing some rooftop cleanup with Clint, and their section of the building crumbled.”

Bucky instinctively opened his mouth, but was cut off by Natasha’s hand held up to silence him. 

“He’s fine, James. The agent wasn’t so lucky, he lost his footing during the collapse and pitched over the roof. Clint held onto him over the ledge as best as he could, but the guy had a solid 50 pounds on Clint, was probably sweaty and panicking, and slipped before Tony could make it over to them. Granted, Clint was as quick on his feet as always, tried to catch the agent on the way down with a web arrow.”

Bucky felt a jolt of shock blitz through him at that. “He missed?” Bucky had seen Clint shoot hunderds of arrows at the range or while watching operation footage, probably thousands. Bucky had never seen Clint miss.

Natasha shot him an offended look. “Of course not,” she spat, “building debris during the collapse snapped the wire.”

“So the agent died.”

“The agent died.”

Bucky was silent for a few moments as he watched Natasha sip her tea. 

“So? Where is he? Hospital? Still at debrief?”

Natasha sighed. “No. He has another place, an apartment complex that he runs in Bed Stuy. He-”

“Clint has a place in Brooklyn?”

“Is that not what I just said? Keep up.”

Bucky nodded, his cheeks heating. “Right. Sorry.” The thought of Clint haunting the streets of Brooklyn had done something to Bucky’s heart. A mixture of nostalgia and longing, he supposed.

“Right. So that’s where he is. He said he needed a break from the superheroes for a little while.”

That hurt. “Did he say why?”

“He doesn’t have to say why. Not to me, not anymore. Think about it; You or Steve, with your superstrength, could have easily hoisted the agent back onto the roof. My reflexes likely would have prevented him from going down in the first place. Bruce, well, the Hulk could have grabbed him midair, and Thor and Tony can fly. Airborne rescues aren’t a problem for them.”

“Clint feels guilty, then. Not as good as the rest of us.” It started to sink in, the harshness of it all coming out in Bucky’s voice. Natasha nodded.

“Because he’s a through and through run-of-the-mill human, and we’re not, he thinks it was his fault the agent died. That if one of us were up there, maybe he would have lived instead.” Bucky continued, trying to ensure that he was keeping up.

Another nod.

Before he could control himself, Bucky let out a barking laugh. “That’s ridiculous! How many civilians have we all lost? Whether it’s you guys on your missions, or Steve and I back in the war, or Thor on Asgard? Does he know that we don’t save everybody either, Natalia? For fuck’s sake, he’s an Avenger! He’s helped save countless people, he has his own action figure, hell, kids dress like him for Halloween! He’s a damn superhero!”

Natasha’s eyes twinkled. “We all know that. We’ve all tried to convince him of everything that you’ve just said, you think we haven’t? This isn’t the first time Clint has run back to his hellhole to try to run away from his guilt and insecurities. He hasn’t heard it from you, though. Something tells me that maybe he’ll listen to you, now.”

Bucky felt himself stammering. “What would make you say that?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Don’t try to play me, Barnes. I’ve been wondering who the culprit was, texting Clint and putting those goofy smiles on his face all week, making him have that gooey, long distance stare-into-nothingness between missions. I didn’t have to wonder anymore, though, not after I saw you waiting for him to come off of the jet. You looked like a kid on Christmas morning, and then a kid who looked like Santa had been shot and killed in front of him when Clint didn’t get off the jet.”

“Morbid,” Bucky muttered, avoiding eye contact.

“Sure. But tell me I’m wrong.”

Bucky kept his mouth shut. 

“I have two things to say to you, James, before I go take a shower and sleep until next year. First, if you-”

“If I break his heart, you’ll break my legs?”

Natasha smirked. “If you break his heart, I’ll kill you.”

Bucky believed her. He nodded his understanding. “And second?”

“Figure out a way to bring him home. It would be much appreciated.”

*

Bucky texted Clint throughout the rest of the night.

B: _I got in trouble with Steve for being out on the roof when the quinjet landed. I didn’t rat you out though, I told him the roof was left open. I don’t think he believed me._

B: _Imagine my disappointment when a certain someone wasn’t there to lay one on me, as promised._

B: _Natasha filled me in, Clint. I understand, a little bit. But then I really don’t. You know it wasn’t your fault. There’s no way to know if any of us would have been able to guarantee a different outcome._

B: _I have to eat something. No use in both of us being idiots. Don’t think just because I’m not texting you for a minute means that I’m going to leave you alone. Because I’m not._

Bucky ate dinner with Steve, Tony, and Sam, who had decided to stop by as he frequently did after the team returned from taking missions without him. Bucky knew intrinsically that Sam was a good guy, someone who genuinely cared about the well being of everyone in the tower. He hadn’t exactly clicked with Sam (in fact, they were usually giving each other a hard time when they weren’t outright ignoring each other), but Bucky knew that if needed, Sam would have his back, and vice versa.

Which Sam proved, about 20 minutes into dinner. Bucky didn’t know if he was exuding annoyance or longing or what, but Sam seemed to have tuned into the fact that the obvious flirting between Steve and Tony was driving Bucky up the fucking wall. Or maybe it was the guilt that Bucky was feeling that was making him quiet and short tempered; this thing with Steve and Tony was relatively new, but Bucky knew that it made Steve happy and dammit, that’s all he ever really wanted in life was a happy, healthy Steve.

Well, maybe not all he wanted. Not anymore.

“Bucky, you’re looking a little peaked, man. It must be a bit overwhelming, going from a nice, quiet place to having to deal with all of these obnoxious children again, huh?” There was a smile on Sam’s face, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he sent Bucky a look of concern.

_Thank Christ for Sam, the annoying gold-hearted bastard._

“You know, for once, you might be right. I think I’m gonna hit the hay, guys, let you enjoy your post-mission glow, or post-coital glow, whatever you kids are calling it.” Bucky stood up from his chair and made his way towards the kitchen to put his dishes in the sink. Before he could turn around, Steve was directly behind him, big warm hand on his flesh shoulder. Always his flesh shoulder.

“Is everything okay, Bucky?”

Bucky hesitated. He couldn’t outright lie to Steve, his Stevie. He would see right through it.

“M’fine, mostly. Just a little worried about C-about Barton. Natalia said he wasn’t doing so hot.”

Steve’s eyes softened. “Ah. He’s too hard on himself, and he’s stubborn.”

Bucky snorted. “You just described everyone in this tower, pal.”

Steve smiled. “I suppose I did. It’s nice to see you caring about the team, Buck.”

Bucky did his best to smile. “Night, Stevie.”

Steve stepped out of his way, and Bucky saluted Sam (and even waved to Tony) before heading back to his own apartment. As soon as he got there, he stripped off his clothes, threw on sleep pants, crawled into bed, and texted Clint before turning over and going to sleep.

B: _I’m not letting this go, but I am going to sleep. I’m sorry that you’re feeling like shit and I hope you’re not alone. For whatever reason, I let you get under my skin and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I was there to comfort you. I think I’d like to hold you, an awful lot. You helped me with my junk, it’s only fair that you would let me help you with yours. So if or when you’re ready for help, all you gotta do it call, or show up here, or send a smoke signal._

B: _I’m usually looking out the window towards Brooklyn, anyways._

*

Bucky woke up at dawn the next morning, sunlight streaming into his eyes, phone buzzing next to his head.

C: _Did you really get reprimanded by Captain America for sneaking out of the house like a naughty teenager?_

Bucky smiled, his heart warm and alive in his chest.

B: _Sure did. Just for you._

C: _Well, I guess I’d be a real dick if I kept ignoring you, then._

B: _I guess you would be._

Silence, for a few moments, before:

C: _Well then, let’s talk, Bucky Bear._


	8. Bait and Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, right?
> 
> One more chapter after this one, lovelies. My continued thanks for reading, and all of your wonderful feedback and encouragement! 
> 
> Enjoy!

B: _Are you alone?_

C: _I share a dog with a friend. Friend is out being important, but Lucky is keeping me company._

B: _I can’t remember the last time I pet a dog._

C: _That’s the saddest thing I think I’ve ever heard. How are you not in a ball of tears all the time?_

B: _I like to think I’m a bit stronger than that. Especially since last week._

C: _What happened last week?_

B: _Tony made me a phone. I tried to text Steve. Your ass somehow got in the mix._

C: _Nice try, Barnes. I see what you’re trying to do. I gotta say, the thought that I’ve been making you feel good and strong and other nice things is pretty rad, but flattery probably won’t fix this._

B: _First, back to last names? I recall you calling me out on that once. I get it now, it’s a pretty disappointing feeling. And maybe you should start by telling me what it is I’m trying to fix?_

Clint stared at the screen of his phone, putting a halt in their quick back and forth conversation. Beside him, Lucky whined and tried to scoot closer to him on the bed. 

“Aw, Lucky. You’re good. You’re a food trap and you stink, but you’re so good. Maybe you should go sweep Bucky off of his big superhero feet, boy. You’re deserving of him. Much more than I am.” Clint winced at his own words, practically feeling the slap that would come to the back of his head if Nat had been around to hear them. Clint groaned and slung his arm over his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he picked his phone back up to respond to Bucky. He couldn’t go on ignoring him; Bucky hadn’t done anything wrong. Except make it seem like he had fallen for Clint over a week of text messages. And who does that?

C: _You’re trying to fix a worthless cause. It feels like you might like me and dude, you shouldn’t be wasting your time. You literally live in a tower of superheroes. Super strong, sexy, confident, built as fuck specimens of perfection. Maybe it’s the wiring in your head that still needs to fuse together making you think that I’m the one worth your time, I don’t know, but I’m just trying to push you in the right direction, you know? And that’s probably away from me, Barnes._

Clint only had to wait a minute for Bucky’s response and when he read it, his stomach dropped. 

Shit. Bucky sounded _pissed._

B: _And that’s for you to decide for me? You know what, I’m pretty fucking tired of other people telling me how to think and what to do. If I want to waste my time on you, CLINT, then that’s my goddamn choice. I was hoping you would respect me enough as my own person to at least understand that, since you’ve been the only one to treat me like I AM my own person since I’ve come back._

B: _Dammit. Fuck. And fuck you for making me have this discussion over a telephone. That’s rough, pal._

Clint, as beaten and ashamed as he felt, couldn’t help smirking.

C: _Nobody calls a cell phone a telephone, Buck. You’re ageing yourself._

B: _And you’re being ridiculous. Tony drowns himself in alcohol and feels the need to pretend that he’s cocky, but that guy is so insecure and riddled with trauma that it oozes out of him. Thor is strong and magical, and pretty naive and ignorant when it comes to this world. Natalia has a past that follows her everywhere she goes and she’s so afraid to be vulnerable that she acts like a cold bitch to everybody instead. Do I need to bring up Bruce’s issues? Because we’ll be here all day and I ain’t got that kind of time._

C: _And what about your best bro, Rogers? You’re flirting with a guy who doesn’t even own a pair of clean jeans, and you know full well that you could be cozying up with the pinnacle of perfection over there. I don’t know why you let Tony get to him first._

B: _Oh my GOD, you child. Stevie? He’s the worst of them. Nevermind his idiotic tendencies to run into fights that he shouldn’t, he’s stubborn, can only take a joke half the time, acts like a blushing virgin, and when he’s not wallowing in self-pity he’s being so self-righteous that I want to punch him in the teeth._

B: _And then there’s me. We all know my gig. The first time you texted me and the phone vibrated I nearly attacked it and died of a panic attack all at once. And that’s the least of my issues._

B: _Point is, none of us are perfect. We’ve all lost civilians regardless of our best efforts. And the idea that you’re the one who isn’t good enough is fucking stupid, Clint. We’re the ones who don’t deserve you, all messy and funny and not afraid to be touchy and not afraid to be human. Hell, we don’t deserve Wilson, either. He won’t even live here because I feel like he can’t handle our nonsense full time. The two legitimate flesh and blood humans on our team and you both run away from us. What does that tell you?_

Clint let out a long breath. It was shakier than he wanted to admit.

C: _I’m not perfect either, obviously. So what’s my damage?_

B: _You’re a pain in the ass. You’re always a sarcastic asshole for the same reason Natalia acts like a cold bitch, God forbid we notice that you have actual feelings and needs like everybody else. You’re also far too hard on yourself and have a hero complex, which is funny considering that you ARE A SUPERHERO. And Jesus man, you have purple nests in the air vents of Avengers Tower. I don’t know what I’m thinking._

That made Clint smile, made his heart start beating a little more calmly, a little more sweetly. 

C: _Have I actually made you start questioning what you’re doing, this thing, with me?_

B: _Shut up. No. Although I am still pissed at you. I was so excited, you asshole. Seeing you was the first thing I’ve been really excited to do since escaping Hydra. I couldn’t figure out what I’d done to turn you off. Must have been my fault, you know?_

Clint clenched his fist, wanting to hit something with it. Of course that’s what Bucky would have thought, that he had changed his mind. Clint really was an asshole. But maybe he could fix it.

Clint hit the call button and brought the phone up to his ear. When Bucky answered, Clint was surprised at how loud things were in the background. Wind. Bucky must be back on the roof. Client’s heart clenched, and he hated himself at that moment, because he wasn’t there with him. 

“Was waiting for you to do that.” Bucky said, and his voice sounded confident and strong.

Clint snorted. “I’ve already become predictable. Fantastic. You’ll be tossing me in a week out of boredom.”

“Nah,” Buck retorted, amusement in his voice, “you’ve got too much to show me. That incredibly bad show about dogs in law enforcement, the joys of all the pizza parlors in New York, your place in Brooklyn.”

“You sound like you’re inviting yourself into my bedroom, Bucky. Not that I mind, I mean, that’d be pretty awesome, if Steve ever releases you into the wild.”

Bucky snorted loudly. It made Clint grin.

“What Stevie doesn’t know can’t hurt him. And I don’t think I want him to know the things I’d be doing to you in your bedroom.”

Fuck. Clint’s stomach flipped, his blood redirecting. He swallowed. And then flinched suddenly at Bucky making a loud exclamation on the other end of the line.

“Ow, Jesus Christ!”

“Er, Bucky? Everything alright over there?”

“Yeah, sorry, hit my arm on something. Um, anyways. I’m being beckoned.” Sure enough, the wind in the background quieted; back inside the tower, then. “Promise me I’ll see you soon, asshole?”

Clint nodded dumbly before realizing that, oh. Right. 

“Yeah, Bucky. In fact, maybe don’t go anywhere anytime soon, okay?” Clint launched himself off the bed, already pulling on a pair of jeans. Lucky followed suit and jumped onto the floor, tail wagging happily. 

“No worries, Clint. I’m not going anywhere, that’s for sure.”

Clint ended the call hurriedly. Idiot. He’d been such an idiot. Gorgeous super soldier was at the tower, not in Bed Stuy. Stupid Hawkeye.

He readied himself in record time. His clothes were wrinkled; he couldn’t care less. He pulled on his boots (who needed tied laces, truly?) and grabbed his keys. He was just getting ready to pull the door open to leave when there were three strong knocks. He stared ahead, hand comically still in the air reaching for the door knob. In his mind, he strung together a plethora of curses. Whose plumbing had exploded now, right at this second? Fuck his life.

He swung the door open, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Look, Nat, it’s really nice to see you, but I’m kinda wanted somewhere pretty important right now...actually, hey, fuck driving, take me back to the tower with you?”

Natasha’s eyebrow rose above the frame of her shades. “Nice to see you too. You’re looking...much more chipper than when I last saw you yesterday.”

Clint grinned at her. “Aw, Nat, you’re so sweet, coming to check on little ol’ me. I am feeling a lot better, thanks. So, tower? Carpool?” He rocked on his heels, antsy to get going.

Natasha smirked. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Clint felt a spike of annoyance. “I’ll question your rudeness later. Can you at least move so that I can get myself there, then?” 

Natasha, looking amused, stepped away from the door frame, letting Clint by. Clint shut the door behind him, turned to head down the hallway, and ran straight into Bucky.

“Hey! Wha-” Clint spluttered on contact, taking a step backwards, taking in the body in front of him. Oh. Oh!

“Oh,” Clint breathed. 

“Hey.” Bucky whispered, a small smile on his face. And fuck it all if Bucky didn’t look a thousand times more gorgeous in person than he had in Clint’s imagination over the last week.

“Hey.” Clint’s voice cracked. Great. He should probably say something else. Instead, he just stared, eyes latched onto Bucky’s.

Bucky’s smile broadened. _Oh God._

“Ahem,” Natasha cleared her throat loudly, suddenly crowding them from the side. “I’ll just be going, then. Somebody is going to have to deal with Steve once JARVIS breaks down and rats us out. Might as well be me.” She clapped both of them on the back at the same time. “You boys have fun. Clint, I’m trusting that you’ll bring James back to the tower. Eventually. But, you know, not too eventually.”

As Natasha stepped away, Bucky said something to her in Russian, something that sounded like a gratitude. Natasha just nodded before bounding down the stairs, leaving the two of them in the hallway to focus on each other.

Clint’s heart was rabbiting in his chest. “You snuck out of the tower,” he said, taking a step backwards, reaching blindly behind him for the door to his apartment.

“You’re observant,” Bucky snarked back to him, taking two steps forward to Clint’s one step back. Close. So close that Clint could feel the heat of Bucky’s chest against his own. 

Fuck. Clint swallowed the exclamation.

Bucky, the cocky asshole, raised his eyebrows. Licked his lips, stepped closer. Leaned in.

“You gonna invite me in, Clint, or do I have to do it myself?” Bucky’s warm breath tickled Clint’s ear. He whimpered and managed to fling the door open behind him. Before he could think, he reacted, reaching forward and curling his hand into the fabric of Bucky’s shirt, yanking him into the apartment after him. 

Bucky kicked the door closed behind them.


	9. Fruition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here's the ending.
> 
> TheSlightlyEvilPooka is to be thanked for the appearance of Kate in this chapter (and also, I expect a cheesecake. I prefer strawberry).
> 
> I hope it's everything you guys wanted it to be!
> 
> Thank you for following along and for all of the wonderful encouragement and feedback along the way. You guys rock!

Bucky was on fire.

Clint used his hand, still twisted in Bucky’s shirt, to shove Bucky backwards into the closed door behind him. Bucky had the brief thought that nobody else would have had the balls (stupidity?) to handle him like that. Bucky also had the realization that his body didn’t react with anxiety, or violence, or fear. 

Hydra hadn’t taken this from him after all.

Bucky breathed out a long sigh, dropping his head forward onto Clint’s shoulder. Instead of freezing or pushing him away, Clint unfurled his hand and wrapped both arms around Bucky’s back tightly, securing him in a firm hug. Bucky melted into it, nuzzling into the space between Clint’s shoulder and neck. He breathed deeply.

“You don’t smell like the vents.”

He felt rather than heard Clint chuckle. “Sorry, pal. The air’s different in Brooklyn. And particularly in this apartment, which is usually filled with the pleasant scent of-”

“Dog!” Bucky finished, pulling away from Clint and quickly stepping around him. Sure enough, Lucky had come into the room and was observing the scene with interest. Bucky immediately dropped to his knees and put his hands out, offering familiarization. Lucky bounded towards him and Bucky laughed loudly as he pet Lucky’s fur excitedly. 

“Lucky, Bucky. Bucky, Lucky, cock-blocking dog extraordinaire.” Bucky guiltily looked up at Clint and was relieved to see a smile on his face rather than annoyance. Bucky grinned back.

“I wasn’t lying when I told you that it’s been awhile since I’ve pet a dog. I couldn’t resist.”

“I get it, Buck. Honestly, if you weren’t a dog man, it might’ve been a deal breaker. That being said,” Clint crowded Bucky then, reached down to where Bucky was kneeling and used a hand to tilt Bucky’s face upwards to meet his gaze, “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you, and I’m having an awful hard time resisting, myself.”

Bucky’s mouth went dry. “This the awful flirting you warned me about?”

“Why, is it working?”

Bucky nodded. “God help me, it really is.”

Much to Bucky’s delight, Clint’s eyes widened in surprise. Also to Bucky’s delight, Clint licked his lips slowly before leaning down. Bucky’s heart thudded in his chest, he could practically hear it, beating so loudly….

….or, he reasoned, that wasn’t the sound of his heart, but rather a pounding from the door. 

“Jesus tap dancing CHRIST, WHAT NOW?!” Clint straightened himself out and somehow managed to make his footsteps sound pissed off before wrenching open the door. Bucky, nervous at the sudden intrusion, stayed kneeling, back to the door, and listened.

“Kate, so help me God, I will pay you actual money, the paper kind, if you leave now without another word.”

“Like you have that to offer. I ran into Natasha downstairs. She threatened to cut me with multiple different exotic sounding knives if I disturbed you at all today.”

“And yet. Here. You. Are.”

“Well, duh. What was I going to do, listen to her and not come to see what the fuss was all about? Whatcha hiding in there, Hawkeye?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I’m trying to get lucky with the most gorgeous guy in New York?”

Bucky didn’t need a mirror to know that his cheeks pinkened at that. Upon hearing his name, Lucky licked Bucky’s cheek once more and walked over to the door, tail wagging.

“Ooh, no, I wouldn’t believe that you have Steve Rogers in there, actually, so try again.”

“What I got in here is even better, so - oh, wait. Yes! Here, Lucky, go with Hawkeye. Katie-Kate, take the dog. Buy pizza with my credit card. Do whatever else you want with it.”

Bucky heard sputtering from the other side of the door.

“Wait, Hawkeye, I have things -”

“To do? So do I. Bye Lucky, have fun, don’t eat too much pizza, be a good boy, listen to Hawkeye, that’s right...toodles!”

The door closed, and Bucky heard a thud, which he learned after he turned around was the back of Clint’s head hitting the door. Bucky stood and walked towards him. 

“Sorry about that, she’s a brat, but on the bright side, no more distractions? We’re alone, now, so we can do what-”

“The most gorgeous guy in New York, huh?” Bucky asked, cutting Clint off and shuffling into him as closely as possible. Clint met his eyes, bit his lower lip. Nodded.

Bucky smiled, gave his best smile to hide the fact that his heart was beating erratically. 

“You’re not that bad yourself, Clint.”

It had been Bucky’s intention to lean in for a kiss, but it was Clint who surged forward to claim Bucky’s mouth with his own. Their lips met in a tangle of heated want, messy and frantic as Clint fisted Bucky’s shirt and Bucky ran his hands up the back of Clint’s neck and into his short, messy hair. Bucky pulled at the strands and Clint gasped, giving Bucky the opportunity to lick into his mouth. Clint returned the action, sliding his tongue over Bucky’s, and Bucky couldn’t even think about containing the moan that the sensation tore from his throat.

Bucky’s blood was lava, moving languidly through his veins before pooling heat into his groin. Not breaking the kiss, Bucky pinned Clint’s body to the door and pressed, slotting one leg between both of Clint’s. Both men caved to the friction and broke apart, breathing hard.

“You taste better than I imagined,” Bucky breathed before mouthing at Clint’s throat. Clint bucked his hips and Bucky whined.

“Fuck, Bucky!” Clint gasped, moving his head to expose more of his flesh for Bucky’s consumption. Bucky laughed against Clint’s throat.

“Probably not gonna make it to that, Clint. Not this time, but I look forward to it.” Bucky nipped at Clint’s clavicle. 

“Jesus, fuck, Bucky, bedroom.”

Bucky wasn’t going to say no to that, even though the loss of Clint’s body heat as he pulled away from the door made his body physically ache. Luckily, the bedroom wasn’t too far away, and walking behind Clint gave Bucky the opportunity to watch the other man from behind has he swiftly removed his shirt the moment they stepped into the bedroom. What followed was a flurry of clothing removal, hectic and hurried enough so that Bucky didn’t even get the chance to feel self-conscious. Not that he could anyways, with the way that Clint was raking his eyes over his body. Bucky did the same, dragging his eyes from Clint’s legs, up from his hard and flushed cock, to Clint’s arms, muscular and thick.

“Looks like someone has an arm fetish,” Clint commented gleefully, slowly stroking himself. He was less than an arm’s length away from Bucky, and the sight made Bucky’s mouth water. 

Bucky managed a shrug. “And?” He challenged.

Clint grinned and jerked his head towards Bucky’s metal arm. “Honestly? I think that makes two of us.”

Bucky was lost in the comment for a moment, the admission both shocking and pleasing to hear. His metal arm, that hated thing that everybody avoided, and Clint...liked it. Liked that it was a part of him.

_I could love this man._

Bucky’s breath left his body in a huff, but he swallowed down his own surprise to pull himself back into the moment. Shooting Clint a small smile, Bucky wrapped his metal hand around his dick and pulled. He moaned softly on the downstroke, wetting himself with precome. 

“Holy fuck, I can’t…tell me no anytime, Buck, okay? It’s all up to you, whatever you want...” Clint’s words faltered and before Bucky could process, Clint sank to his knees before him and batted his own hand away.

“You were wondering,” Clint said, before licking a stripe from the base to the tip of Bucky’s length, “if it would feel like velvet.” Clint looked up to him then, eyes searching, questioning. Bucky swallowed hard and nodded fervently. 

“Please, Clint…” And that was all it took before Clint’s mouth was around him, hot and wet and perfect. _Like velvet,_ Bucky thought as Clint sank his mouth lower, capturing Bucky in his throat, _like fucking velvet_. Bucky cried out when Clint hollowed his cheeks and began to suck him off in earnest, bobbing his head quickly. With the flick of his tongue Clint had Bucky trembling, and Bucky laced his fingers into the hair on Clint’s head, trying with all of his willpower not to buck into Clint’s mouth. He tried, that is, until Clint reached up and put both hands on Bucky’s ass, pushing him forward, egging him on.

“Goddammit, Clint!” Bucky startled, but couldn’t refuse. He jerked his hips back and forth, fucking earnestly into Clint’s mouth, holding Clint’s head with his hands.

“Fuck, Clint, m’gonna…” he moaned, feeling his toes curl. Clint hummed happily, again pushing against Bucky’s ass, causing Bucky to look down and meet his eyes. The vibration sent shockwaves through Bucky’s body, and he barked out a string of expletives as he came hard down Clint’s throat as Clint sucked, sucked, sucked, until Bucky had nothing left to give. When Clint removed himself, he did so slowly, guiding his mouth from Bucky gently. 

Clint stood and placed a hand on the back of Bucky’s neck. He was breathing heavy and his mouth was red and wet, and Bucky had to bite back another obscene sound. “You were so good, baby,” Clint murmured, leaning forward to pepper Bucky’s chest with kisses. Bucky’s stomach fluttered at the endearment, and yeah, he could get used to this. 

“You haven’t seen good, doll,” Bucky drawled, stepping forward and using his hand to push Clint backwards until his knees hit the bed. Bucky pushed forward still, until Clint was laying on the mattress, Bucky settled between his spread legs. Despite knowing that Clint was hugely turned on, given the hardness and wetness of his dick, Clint looked up at him with amusement, challenge and snarkiness twinkling in his eyes and oh, how Bucky wanted to rip that look to shreds. Not breaking eye contact, Bucky licked the palm of his hand and lowered it to Clint’s length, wrapping it firmly around the base and dragging upwards slowly. He watched the smart-ass glint flicker in Clint’s eyes. _Yes_.

Bucky used his hand and wrist expertly, finding the speed and grip that seemed to best turn Clint into a quivering wreck. He could feel Clint hardening and tightening, could feel the heat from his cock in his hand and knew that Clint wasn’t going to last. He stopped stroking suddenly, enjoying the sight of Clint’s eyes slamming open, confused and pleading. 

“Bucky, don’t stop, please…”

Bucky brought his metal hand to Clint’s face, cupping his jaw and thumbing slowly over Clint’s plump bottom lip. Clint groaned.

“It’s...warm…” Clint sighed, closing his eyes at the sensation. Bucky smiled.

“Get it wet for me so I can show you how warm it can get?” Bucky asked, a little shy and a little uncertain, but only for a split second, as Clint happily sucked Bucky’s metal thumb into his mouth, sloppy and so fucking hot. Bucky whimpered, Clint’s dick twitched in his hand, and he decided that he had tortured Clint enough. He moved his metal hand and placed it low, between Clint’s cheeks, and Clint shuddered. 

“Same goes for you,” Bucky whispered, starting to stroke again with his flesh hand, “just tell me no if you don’t want it.”

“Bucky,” Clint’s voice was strangled and taut, “please, in me, now, now…” And Bucky complied, pushing his thumb slowly into Clint, sinking it in as deeply as he could manage before drawing it back out, and back in, out, in and out to match the speed of his other hand around Clint’s cock.

“FUCK!” Clint moaned loudly, fisting the sheets, biting his lip, his head thrashing back and forth, eyes squeezed shut. It spurred Bucky to move faster, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Look so beautiful like this,” Bucky said, watching for Clint’s reaction. Clint whined and Bucky could feel Clint tighten around his thumb, knew that he was close, so close. “Clint,” Bucky breathed, “come for me, sweetheart.” And that was that. 

Bucky removed his thumb and continued to stroke Clint slowly until his orgasm was finished, toppling on top of him and finding Clint’s mouth with his own. They kissed slowly, maneuvering until they were lying on their sides, lips, tongues, and bodies warm, slick, and sticky.

Bucky found himself laying on Clint’s chest after a while, Clint stroking his hair softly and slowly. He had nearly fallen asleep, dazed and hazy, until Clint broke the silence.

“This is dangerous, Buck.”

Bucky craned his neck to look up, to meet Clint’s eyes. “Yeah, how so?”

Clint smiled down at him, face open, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Because I feel like I could get used to this.”

Bucky felt overwhelmed with the sentiment, echoing his own thought from earlier, filling him to the brim with something soft, airy, brilliantly bright. Oh, this feeling...nobody could take this feeling away from him.

“Me, too.”

*

_SIX MONTHS LATER_

It was Bucky’s first PR interview as an official part of the team, and he was nervous as hell. He hated the bright lights, hated the constricting suit, and hated the feeling of the wax in his hair and powder on his face. But he remembered to smile, remembered to charm the camera, remembered to look the interviewer in the eye when he answered her questions, just like Steve had coached him to do.

“Sergeant Barnes, we’ve had a lot of people Tweeting to us this evening wondering the same thing. What has been your favorite discovery or belonging so far in the 21st century?”

Bucky pretended to think about it for a moment, trying to look contemplative as he scanned the audience, locking eyes with Clint in the front row. Clint looked amused, a small smile playing on his lips, and Bucky nearly laughed when Clint winked at him, cloy and trying to be sexy.

Instead, Bucky winked back quickly before looking at the interviewer. He shrugged his shoulders and responded hesitantly.

“A...cell phone?”


End file.
